


Running on Lantean Time

by Brumeier



Series: Life in the Yukon [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1, The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, Diners, Friendship, Gen, Grocery Store, Photography, Pre-Slash, Radio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 01:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15674928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: Clint's been out of town for a couple of days and hasn't met Dr. McKay yet, but that situation won't last long.





	Running on Lantean Time

_Good morning, Lantea! I bet you’re wondering why your favorite afternoon radio host is coming to you in the morning. I’m heading to Fairbanks today to meet up with my mom. She’s only going to be there for a couple of days and we haven’t seen each other in a while, so I thought why not? This will be a good chance to check out some of the cultural hot spots of that fine city and stock up on more reindeer sausage. If anyone needs anything from Fairbanks, come see me before ten o’clock._

_Filling in for me while I’m gone is our own jack-of-all-trades and man about town, Aiden Ford. He’ll keep Opera Hour going, but beyond that prepare to experience a musical change of pace. I hope you’ll all give him a great K-LAN welcome! And now some Jimi Hendrix to help get your blood pumping!_

Clint slept in late, rolling out of bed shortly after seven o’clock. He took a long, hot shower, fed Lucky, slipped his tablet in his messenger bag, and headed over to the Pegasus Café for breakfast. He lived just off Main Street, so it wasn’t a far walk.

“Morning,” Jon said.

“Same to you.”

“Usual?”

“Yeah.”

Clint took a seat at his usual table and pulled out the tablet. He’d just returned from a two-day safari out in the bush and it was the first chance he had to review the pictures he’d uploaded. Being a military sniper had made him well-suited for long stints of inactivity while he looked through a telescoping lens.

“That’s a great shot,” Jon said, leaning over Clint’s shoulder to take a look.

“You think so?”

He’d captured a bald eagle in the action of scooping a duck off the lake, with early-morning steam still rising off the surface of the water.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful. In a brutal, circle-of-life way.”

“I’ll hook you up with a print,” Clint said, making a note. His photographs were hanging up all around Lantea, and in a gallery in Anchorage.

Clint ate his breakfast – goat cheese omelet with tomatoes and spinach – and watched everyone that came into the café. He made a study of human behavior and body language, also partly due to his military training. His friend Nat liked to point out that it was a way of separating himself from other people, the same as being on the other side of the camera or behind the counter at the store. Clint wasn’t sure he put much stock in that bit of pop psychology. It wasn’t like he didn’t talk to people.

Doc Beckett came in for his morning oatmeal – he called it porridge – accompanied by his nurse and office manager, Jissika. Anyone with any sense could look at them and see a mother-son relationship even though they weren’t related. The Doc was a dyed-in-the-wool mama’s boy whose own mother had passed away just a few years ago, and Jissika had somehow filled that role for him even though the gap in their ages couldn’t have been more than ten years.

“Morning, lad,” Doc said as he paused by Clint’s table. “You still haven’t set up your appointment.”

“I will,” Clint promised. He probably wasn’t lying.

Doc gave him a look that said he wasn’t buying it, but he nodded and took a seat at the counter between Jissika and Sheriff Q. JB brought him his oatmeal and they had a hushed conversation. Clint could tell that JB’s stump was causing him some discomfort again just from facial cues and the way JB was holding himself. Poor guy had had a rough go of it.

Caldwell walked through the door like he owned the place, which he in fact didn’t. Clint had never seen someone with so much natural confidence. His assistant Laura was with him, and she immediately diverted to say good morning to Doc Beckett. Really, that man had to be dense as a post not to realize what a big crush she had on him. Although from the side-eye Jissika was giving Laura, she was well aware. Interesting.

Evan came out of the kitchen just as Clint was finishing up. “Got your lunch ready,” he said, sitting down at the table and handing over a paper bag.

“What is it today?” Clint had a standing lunch order on the days he came for breakfast, but he left the actual contents up to Evan. He’d never been disappointed yet.

“Thinly sliced elk tenderloin with avocado dressing and horseradish.” Evan leaned back in his chair. “New scientist arrived while you were on walkabout. He hasn’t been happy about the store being closed.”

“How bad is he?” Clint asked. “Kavanagh level?”

“Maybe higher. He’s a complainer. Bernard is taking bets if you’re interested.”

“Good to know. Thanks.”

Clint paid his bill, made his bet with Bernard on how long the new Brainiac would last in Lantea, and then he opened the store.

Lantean General Goods didn’t have regular hours. Clint opened it up sometime after he’d had breakfast and closed it when he felt like doing something else. Some days he didn’t open at all because he went fishing or out on one of his photo safaris. For the most part no-one seemed to mind.

His first order of business was to restock the shelves, especially the snacks and candy bars because the kids from the survival camp would be coming in the next couple of days to celebrate the – hopefully – successful end of their six weeks. It was the only time they were allowed off the mountain and the kids were always crazy for chocolate by that time.

The bell over the door jangled and a stranger came in, his mouth twisted down on one side and already complaining even as he snatched up one of the hand baskets. 

“What kind of store closes in the middle of the week? I needed coffee! I always need coffee. You should post your hours, like every other store in the world.”

“The store runs on Lantea time,” Clint replied. “You must be Dr. McKay.”

“Whatever you heard about me is true, and ten times worse when I haven’t had coffee.”

Clint pointed him to the right aisle. The shelves were all shoulder height so it was easy to keep an eye on the man as he grumbled and looked through the selections. He finished putting out the pre-packaged cookies – Evan would make some fresh for the kids to go with their lunch – and ducked around the counter. He booted up the laptop he kept there to adjust his inventory lists.

“I was expecting that nasty instant stuff,” Dr. McKay said, brandishing a bag of Jamaican Blue Mountain. “Do you actually keep this in stock or is this just a fluke?”

“It’s Caldwell’s favorite, so we always have it.”

“What’s his deal?” Dr. McKay asked, working his way down the aisle now that he’d filled his basket with coffee. “He acts like he owns the whole town.”

Clint shrugged. “Not all of it. He’s a war hero, and a former astronaut. Settled up here because he thinks there’s potential for high-end tourism, but he hasn’t been able to get many people interested.”

The bell over the door jangled again as Sheppard came in.

“Hey, Clint. That order of ramen come in?”

“Yeah. I’ve got it boxed up for you in the back.”

Sheppard started to head for the storeroom, but Dr. McKay blocked his path, jabbing a finger at him in the process.

“You are the world’s worst landlord! I have a list a mile long of things that need to be fixed in that hovel of a cabin, and no-one will give me your number.”

Clint watched, amused. Dr. McKay was practically quivering with fury, and Sheppard…huh. If Clint didn’t know any better he’d swear the guy was turned on. Dr. McKay wasn’t wrong, though. It was surprising that cabin was even still standing. Clint knew Sheppard was more than capable of doing the upkeep on it, he just…didn’t.

“There was a rat in there the size of that thing you laughably call a dog. I had to kill it with a fireplace poker! Speaking of which, when’s the last time you had the chimney cleaned? The plumbing is bad, the heating is non-existent, the wind blows right through the walls, and I think the refrigerator is about to die because it’s been groaning for the last two days.”

“This is why I didn’t give you my number,” Sheppard replied with a smirk. 

“Oh, ha ha. Don’t give up your day job.” Dr. McKay plunked the basket on the counter. “Ring me out and be quick about it. I’m not letting this flyboy out of my sight.”

Clint saved the changes to his spreadsheet and stretched, taking his time. While Dr. McKay was momentarily distracted by his “inefficiency and poor customer service”, Sheppard zipped into the back to pick up the cases of ramen he needed to deliver out to McGrath once he’d ferried Blair to Fairbanks.

“I’ll be right back,” Dr. McKay said darkly. 

He went out the front door and Clint watched through the window as Dr. McKay swiped the keys from Sheppard’s truck. He chuckled. Looked like Sheppard met his match this time. 

McKay’s groceries fit in one paper bag and while Clint was finishing up the transaction, Sheppard snuck out the back and tried to leave. When the man came storming back into the store, McKay held his keys up by the plastic airplane fob.

“The only place you’re going is back to that deathtrap with me.”

“You can’t just steal a man’s keys, McKay.”

“And you can’t expect me to live in squalor. Unless you want me up in your business twenty-four hours a day, I suggest you make the repairs.”

Clint watched the two of them, and yeah. Sheppard wasn’t at all put off by that threat. If anything, he looked intrigued. He masked it with a scowl, but his body language said otherwise, what with the way he was leaning in towards Dr. McKay instead of away from him. Well, every good relationship started with sparks, didn’t it?

“Have a nice day,” Clint said as his two customers left. They argued all the way out the door.

He was going to have to change his bet with Bernard; something told him _this_ science nerd might be sticking around.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** I wasn't sure who I wanted running the store, and then nagi_schwarz suggested Clint. He seemed like the perfect, laid-back guy for the job. ::grins:: In creating a new backstory for him, I thought about how good his vision is and how that might be applied without super cool arrows, and sniper just seemed like a good fit. And from there it wasn't a far stretch to imagine him out in the wilds of Alaska with a telephoto lens.


End file.
